


To Conquer Death (You Only Have to Die)

by kafeiro



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: AU: Jesus Christ Superstar, Drug Abuse, Essentially Jesus!Kieren, Judas!Simon, Mary!Amy, Messiah Kieren, Other, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, no...really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 06:06:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17197928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafeiro/pseuds/kafeiro
Summary: In the few short months following the reveal of Victor Halperin as the Undead Prophet the undead communities of Europe have struggled to make sense of the lies they’d been fed and their prospects for the future. In those months they were lost and found an unlikely beacon of hope in Kieren Walker, First Risen and newfound peaceful Undead Rights activist. His gentler, sincere approach garners him followers in the thousands, fast fame, and the potential to actually make a difference. Unfortunately, the road towards change is a terrible, perilous one that Simon would much rather not guide his boyfriend down.





	To Conquer Death (You Only Have to Die)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the project I never thought I would undertake for many reasons, but as per usual I have the wonderful Tseecka to thank for convincing me it was a worthwhile effort. Born from binging on In the Flesh and Jesus Christ Superstar (the Norman Jewison and Gale Edwards films, the 2012 production that I am still devastated I couldn’t attend while living in London, and the soundtracks for all three) whilst living in China and longing for home. This is technically an AU as I’ve retconned Amy’s death to keep her around as my Mary Magdalene, but the rest is canon compliant so far I’m aware. If I’ve made any errors there then I do apologize. Having said that, the root of all this is the story of the last days in the life of Jesus Christ, so I’m sure I’ll offend more people for that than getting details of Roarton incorrect…

Bleak grey and that odd electric sizzle to the wind that marked the coming of rain, suddenly calming into a moist breeze as the whole town became alive with noise, the slow and gentle claps readily becoming glorious applause. It was to be another rainy day in Roarton it seemed, and the rain was bouncing off the worn, old pavement and, much to the chagrin of many, the masses lined along it in wait. Rain was one of those unfortunate realities for protesters that was rarely documented. Particularly in the UK where both rain and protests were a fairly standard occurrence, media depictions of the brave or stupid with their signs and indignation were shown under dry skies, whether under the dull morning light or the cloak of evening. You never really saw the truth of protesting come rain or shine. You never really saw the truth of anything.

That was a thought ever-present in the mind of Simon Monroe these days, an increasingly worrying one to have set itself up in there with poisonous tendrils of disdain and fear leaking down and seeping into his chest. He seemed to be saturated in it yet managed to feel even more soak into him with every glance at Kieren, every moment he spent in his presence and heard his words weaving through the crowds and stirring their energy. The way they sparked left him waiting for the real ignition, the explosion and the fallout, having to go hunting for signs of life among the rubble and fighting to rebuild again if there was any hope left. In the here and now Kieren seemed to have nothing but hope and pride, blinded by the crowds and the frenzy and that feeling of purpose that on a lesser, safer scale would have filled Simon with a similar joy but instead frightened him with such a fullness that it ached to simply move about with that weight inside him.  
Yet here he was practically hiding behind the church, brooding and anxiously listening to the mob lining the road, freezing every time he mistook the ardent clamour for brewing mutiny.

"Kieren, are you really going to go along with this madness," Simon muttered, all but pinning him to the wall, somehow shaking with the effort and looking incensed and helpless at once. The emotion radiated from him but all Kieren could feel was uncomfortable. He was too close, too close to him and too close to reaching that boiling point. Once again he was actually fearful of what the man he loved was capable of. That clicked in his head and sent another wave of hurt through him. He looked away, back to Amy whose eyes had narrowed slightly at the man pinning her Ren to the wall, masked with her ever-present brave smile. 

"Yes, because they are here. They're here and they want change and we can get them back on the right track. They're just misguided and full of fire and need a poke in the right direction again. They can do it."

"I think correcting them on the whole messiah thing would probably help immensely in that." They locked eyes at that for a fleeting moment before, ashamed, Kieren whipped his head away again. Simon sighed in disbelief. "Can't believe it," he huffed. "At the very least that blasphemy has gone too far. The papers have been covering our mission, even the Telegraph is dubbing you zombie Jesus, and though I may be seen to some as an abomination I'm still a faithful man and that's deeply offensive to me."

"So I offend you now, is that it?" He didn't mean to bark it out like that but he was feeling the pressure and the shame and the threat of Simon's now clenched fist right by his face flooding into him like cement, slow and heavy, sickening and making him stiffen with the fear. He needed to shove Simon away and all had was his words.

"Oh for God's - you're just a man, Kieren. You're just another man with a good idea and the strength to put it out there. Biblical comparisons are not fitting and will damn you rather than exalt you. Can you honestly not see that? They all don't, and when it comes crashing down... I'm scared for you." 

He took a steadying breath, searching Kieren’s face, trying to reach his eyes to see if some of this, any of this was reaching him, but without luck.

“The First Risen, the Second Rising… I don’t even know if any of it matters now, if it ever did or if any of that crap is real. Halperin fed us all that and nearly ruined us all in the process.” Simon shifted uncomfortably but all Kieren could do was sag sadly against the wall, eyes fixed on the ground. “What I know now, what I know for certain is that you’re the hope for the Undead, a bright and brilliant light that can do so much good if you can only stay on track, but you’re not the only hope. There are more people out there and the burden is not yours alone, but neither is the glory or salvation or whatever the hell it is they’re claiming now. I don’t doubt your brilliance but they’re treating you like a messiah, some prophetic saviour who has magic in his hands and the power to do all the work of fixing things on your own. It’s madness, can’t you see? It’s gone too far already but it can go further, and they’ll tear you apart the second they find the fantastical ideas they’ve come up with are impossible. They’ll see their ideas fail and blame you for it. I just- I don’t want you to pay the price.”

It had all spiralled out of control so quickly, a frightening pace that Simon had berated himself for many nights over. He should have seen it coming. He should’ve done more damage control, stemmed the tide before it threatened to overwhelm them all, ruin the man he loved.

In the days following the revelation, the awful moment when the curtain was pulled back and the Wizard was revealed to be little more than another man with a horrid plan and an over-inflated sense of importance, there was a quiet sort of chaos bubbling throughout the entirety of the UK, even extending beyond the coasts to everywhere the Undead Prophet managed to lay his warm, human fingers and pervasive ideas. The internet was ablaze with the news, combinations of his pseudonym, his real name, and all sorts of damning descriptors making the trending topics daily and the most active forum threads all asking the same question: where do we go from here?

Though not too long ago Kieren Walker would have stayed quiet, shied away from any decisive action or activism to side with human or PDS causes, in light of recent event he felt awakened and, honestly, sort of righteous - he jokingly laughed and said "told you so" to Simon before looking far more serious and understanding, pulling him into a tight embrace and whispering promises over and over that that nothing would be lost, that things would be alright. He swore to him then and there with a fire in his chest that he would make sure the cause did not die, the first time he'd ever made such a bold and honest declaration, and he surprised himself with the surety of his words - they had a weight in his mouth and wound into his brain, taking root. 

It wasn't long at all before he was active in the forums, trying to remind the broken and hopeless people he saw commenting and questioning the future there, trying to remind them that while their figurehead may have been a liar and a destructive man, the fundamental ideas he fed the undead who would listen were true and good, that their rights were worth fighting for, that they had a chance, that each and every single one of the Risen had the power to change their circumstances and gain a better life. The response was instantaneous, like a tsunami crashing down hard and flooding the net with messages of hope and scepticism, all interest and discussion all the same which pleased Kieren more than he'd thought it could. The skcptics were drowned in a sea of joy, and within a week the number of people directly messaging him, looking up to him, showering him with love and stories of how they believed and wanted to stand up and fight was incredible. Kieren was shocked, but Simon stood by the whole time just smiling with pride and complete understanding. He'd always known, always seen how incredibly special the man was, could see that he was built for greater things, and seeing it come to fruition, or at least the seeds of it, was incredible. It stirred a joy within him that was rare and solely brought about by Kieren, a light that burst through him and raised him up so that his steps were lighter, his days easier. 

In the months following, Kieren was suddenly somewhat of an internet celebrity, now with a personal blog and a follower count in the thousands. His blog wasn't exactly solely dedicated to Undead Rights Activism but it certainly featured heavily enough - peppered with his personal opinions on the topics, unfiltered and genuine, laden with advice - and it seemed that was the main draw for the masses. His followers grew steadily with each day; when Simon suggested they host a quiet little meetup with coffee, discussions of the future, some pep talks, Kieren was nervous but, with Simon by and Amy by his side, he figured he'd be able to handle anything. 

The first meeting came and went with a crowd of at least 40 clamouring to sit near to Kieren in the tiny space, all awed and smiling, looking at him like he had the secrets of the universe on the tip of the tongue and hope etched into his pale skin. He showed his scars, strangely fearless in his position as leader around them, spoke openly and honestly about his feelings and his thoughts on how to peacefully change the hearts and minds of the living who sought to oppress them, and they clung onto every word. Words spread, demand was made known, and the next meeting came, and the next, and the next. Familiar faces cropped up at each meeting and tens of new faces joined the throng with each gathering, and friendships were forged. It was Amy who first pointed out that it seemed Kieren was destined to be the next Undead Prophet, a connection that stung him and made him recoil for a few days, stay away from her and Simon, from the internet, from his followers, but when he emerged from his dark he swallowed, nodded, and realized that if he remained true and pure in his intent, if the people wanted a leader - and no natural born leader he thought himself, as he knew he would need both Amy and Simon by his side every step of the way to not crumple and hide and get all awkward about the idea of guiding people - then a leader he would be. He'd manage to find pride in it one day, he figured, but for now he was content to just awkwardly suggest and point the masses in the right direction: a peaceful protest down south, right outside parliament where the real decisions were made. Before that ultimate goal they would have to work hard on Lancashire and Norfolk, an unnerving task, especially in light of Victor Halperin's ulterior motive, his god complex, and the dangers such a protest posed. Still, the crowd that followed him seemed unfazed by the prospect of pain and suffering. All in the line of duty. Sacrifice was wotrth the liberation of all. It was weirdly moving, though he truly hoped nobody was about to literally thrown themselves in front of the bus. 

When they were alone, the three would discuss the movement, in the bungalow, chat animatedly about what good could be done, how many people they had the potential to save, to make believe in their own potential, how many minds they could change and bring to the enlightened path that undead and living were on the same level. Simon tentatively mentioned the Prophet's former disciples, pointed out the few who had been shadowing Kieren at the meetings, named the ones who had not shown their faces directly, at casually hinted that perhaps a similar, trusted circle might be in his best interests. In the back of his mind he rolled through scriptures and dismissed the possibilities of anything going wrong, and Kieren was not easily convinced it was a good strategy. He had his two biggest supporters, and that was more than enough. Eventually it wasn't. Philip was added honourarily because he was honest, good, true, devoted to both Amy and the cause, and his state as one of the living could greatly assist the movement. Then came Alex out of the blue, unbeknownst to Kieren released from the Norfolk facility again with apologies and thanks, praising Kieren for his sense and for the hope he had given people like him, broken by the system and laden with the haunting memories of past mistakes. Kieren took him in mostly out of pity and a sense of obligation to his former roommate. There was something in his eyes that spoke of honest desperation to fix things. When Brian and Zoe stepped forth he didn't trust them like the others but understood their value in their past connection to the ULA, the Prophet, to the old crowd that still needed to be won over. Zoe was the one who told him of the Second Rising, of the conclusion that he was the First, that Simon had betrayed him before. 

For weeks the meetings stopped. Kieren reeled at the news. There was another dark while Simon and Kieren did not speak, and Simon agonised over it. 

But Kieren Walker has taken all sorts of shit from the people he loves, dealt with betrayal and rejection, lies, filth, and he managed to forgive again just like every other time, picked up the pieces, issued forgiveness like a plaster for the bleeding, and moved on. It was no simple thing for him, but his resiliency and the ability to make himself rise above was beautiful, powerful, and while Simon thanked him for it he was horrified and intrigued all the same.

It was infuriating, watching the mob going out of their minds and practically screeching out his name, treating him like one of the gods, their personal messiah. He dismissed the notion that it was mostly out of jealousy the he had to share his Kieren far more now with the rest of them than he had had to in earlier days because he knew so many of them, knew many from the days of the ULA, some of them now clinging to Kieren side as they had clung to the grainy image and distorted voice of the Prophet. They were weak and fearful and hopeful and going to jump ship the second Kieren was no longer useful, when the next person came along with an idea that was palatable. They were rowdy and disobedient, had let their own interpretations of the First get ahold of them and lead them to selectively listen to what he was saying. The concept of peaceful protest was sinking in a mire of violence and talks of ditching the neurotryptyline, snagging what little of the good old Blue Oblivion could be found, giving the public a scare, maybe even trying to synthesise more like the successful homebrew neurotryptyline. It was maddening and though they were all still taking their doses the mob was clearly going rabid and at some point they would tear him apart, somehow. Kieren didn’t see it, couldn’t or didn’t want to, believed they could be brought back around again. He was such a misguided optimist that it made Simon love and hate him equally more.


End file.
